Mnemosyne
by Werecat99
Summary: A ghost and old sins. A Potions Master and the shadows of his past. And a white cat... CHAPTER 4 UP.
1. Prologue

****

A/N: This story has been troubling the back of my mind for quite sometime now, so I have finally decided to put it into writing.

__

Mnemosyne means remembrance in Greek and she was the Goddess of Memories and mother of the nine Muses of the ancient Greeks.

This tale takes place during Voldemort's first reign of terror.

Disclaimer: Not mine. And if you check my refrigerator, you'll know I'm not making any money out of it.

__

Dedicated to my kitty Lugh who is a furball of pure love and light.

****

MNEMOSYNE

Prologue

So the War was finally upon them.

Slowly but steadily preparations were made for the coming of the Dark. In the side of Light, secret meetings took place behind closed doors, whispered exchanges of schemes and plans and battle tactics. Woven inside the mundane routine of the Muggle world, another world was writhing in turmoil.

Then blood was finally shed.

But it was not just wizards' blood. Muggle blood had also soiled the earth. People going to their everyday chores, oblivious of what slithered among them, had been caught in crossfire. And somehow this needed to be mended, to avert the exposure of the Wizarding world.

The Minister gazed upon the broken bodies, his face pale. "What shall we do?"

The Old Wizard stroked his long, white beard. He had really hoped to avoid this. Aware that the time of wishful thinking was over, he spoke the word. 

"Obliviate."


	2. Crossfire

****

Chapter 1: Crossfire.

The sun rose that day as it had done every day before. A sparrow chirped on her window, content with having a breadcrumb for breakfast. The coffee smelled the same and that first bite of her toasted bread made her mouth water as it always had. She stepped on her bathroom scale and a smile lighted her freckled face, seeing that she had lost another pound. She brushed her chestnut hair, thinking that perhaps she should buy that skirt after all. Picking her keys from the dresser, she stroked her cat's head and left for work.

When Claire Jenkins closed the door behind her on that cloudy morning, she did not suspect that this would be the last day of her life.

She walked down the road to the bus stop feeling her heart galloping in her chest. Perhaps she would be lucky enough to see _him_ among the other passengers. And perhaps one of these days she would find the courage to walk up to him and say _Hello_. Perhaps...

Then her daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of trashcans crashing on the ground, followed by the howl of a cat mewing in distress. Always with a soft spot for cats, Claire halted her walk and looked inside the alley to see if there was an injured animal inside. 

They came upon her like shards of darkness, sharp and lethal.

Two men in midnight cloaks stormed out of the alley, their features shadowed by their hoods. But the pulsating halo of malice followed their trail and Claire stumbled in a panicked attempt to avoid them. But she wasn't quick enough. She had unwillingly placed herself in the way of the second man's escape route and collision was inevitable. Before she could react, she found herself on the ground while the man flung his arms aimlessly, trying fruitlessly to maintain his balance. But he too landed on the ground with a loud thud, just a few feet away from Claire.

She stood up dusting her clothes and so did he, mumbling viciously through clenched teeth. Claire tried to apologize, but this seemed to infuriate him even further. Without warning, he raised his hand and slapped her.

"Stupid Muggle bitch," he yelled and slapped her again.

She was scared stiff now, fearing that she was dealing with madmen. Then the screeching of car breaks drew their attention. A passing car stopped behind them and a young man came out, a man with soft, brown hair and kind eyes.

"Leave her alone, freak," he cried out. And Claire breathed in relief for this stranger's intervention.

The hooded man laughed with a sound that couldn't be human. At least it seemed so to her ears. Then he reached out inside the dark folds of his clothes as if to draw out a gun. Claire yelled a warning that came too late. The man took out something that looked like a magician's wand and mumbled a few incoherent words. And the young man with the kind eyes who could have been her savior stared blankly to the dark figure. He blinked twice, as if in disbelief that he could no longer feel his heart beating and collapsed on the ground.

And he moved no more.

Claire screamed. Then two more men came out of the alley and she was now certain that this was an awful nightmare. _It had to be_. There were no building exits in the alley, so those people must have materialized from thin air. She fell on the ground, praying desperately to wake up. She hid her head under her arms, while above her the two pairs exchanged curses in a language that sounded like English and yet it was not. Through her eyelashes she saw flashes of light bursting into rainbows of sparkles, deadly fireflies that danced on and around her skin, stinging her face and arms with their spiked caresses.

Someone yelled at her to get out of there. As soon as she regained control of her limbs, she began to crawl away. She never saw whose wand cast the fatal spell.

It felt as if something had suddenly shaded the sun. She stretched her eyelids as wide as possible, but darkness fell despite her best efforts to hold onto the light. In horror, she realized that she could no longer breathe, for her whole existence had flared up into a blazing sphere of pain. 

Unlike popular beliefs, her life did not pass before her eyes. One single thought crossed her mind before drifting away.

__

Who will feed Lugh tonight?


	3. Lethe

****

A/N: Lethe means oblivion in Greek. According to mythology, this was the name of one of the four rivers encircling Hades, its waters causing memory loss.

****

CHAPTER 2: Lethe.

When Claire did not return home that evening, her roommate Tina didn't think much of it. Assuming that she was out having fun and dinner with her colleagues, Tina emptied a can of cat food inside Lugh's dish, hoping that this would calm down the agitated cat. Sitting down before her computer to finish an assignment, she paid no more attention to the cat that was running through the house, sniffing every corner and mewing desperately, as if seeking something he could not find.

Sometime later, she sensed someone behind her, although she could not recall hearing the familiar jingle of keys turning and the front door opening. Tina didn't think much of it, absorbed as she had been in her work. Without raising her eyes from her screen, she addressed the person she believed to be Claire.

"It was about time, Claire," she teased the person behind her. "That cat of yours has been driving me nuts while you were out having fun."

But she heard no reply. Only then did she realize that something was terribly wrong. Spinning around on her chair, she found herself face to face with a stranger. Astounded, she sat motionless staring at the weird-looking man.

Tina had never saw anyone like him, save for people wearing costumes during parties or shows. He was wearing a long, heavy cloak and he had a strange hat on, reminding her of her childtime fairytales and old wizards in fancy robes. And although her instincts told her that he meant her no harm, her intellect protested. 

__

Wizards do not exist. Right?

People dressing up like wizards, unless going to a costume party, have serious issues.

People with issues are not far from insanity.

People with issues are potentially dangerous.

Her eyes darted back and forth, seeking frantically for an escape route. Then the man reached inside the folds of his robes, Tina panicked. She sprung from her chair and ran to the door. Before she could take hold of the knob, something like a lightning strike flashed behind her and the door was sealed. She grabbed the handle with both hands, struggling to open her only way out, but in vain. And when she tried to scream, no sound came out of her throat.

In tears, her knees gave in and she sunk to the floor, her right hand still clutching the doorknob. The weird man was now towering over her, while she could do nothing but plead him in silence with her eyes. As if time had somehow slowed down, she watched in horror as he pointed what appeared to be a stick at her. It could have been a gun or a spoon; in her numb mind, it made little difference. Tina was certain that she would be dead in the coming moments.

He looked at her for one timeless moment. "I am sorry," he finally said. Then he uttered a strange word and the world became brighter for one glorious heartbeat.

And then came the darkness.

~*~

Having placed the unconscious woman on her bed, the wizard moved from room to room, going through closets and drawers, eliminating everything that could remind the world that Claire Jenkins had ever existed. It had been the Ministry's decision that this was best for everyone. Muggles would be spared the grief of mourning their loved ones and the events of the seemingly unexplained deaths would no longer pose a threat of exposure for the Wizarding world.

It was complicated, but essential. So the wizard carefully continued to remove all evidence; clothes, books, photographs, ever the scent of her perfume that still lingered on the bathroom. When he was certain that he had left nothing behind, he disapparated from this Muggle house to return to the Ministry. The Muggle woman would wake up the next morning having no memory of her late roommate or her encounter with the Obliviator.

However, there is no such thing as a perfect plan.

The wizard had paid little attention to the white cat that had been watching him suspiciously moving around, eradicating all traces of Claire's existence. 

When the cat was certain that their visitor had left for good, he came out from under the bed and walked to the front door. Lugh jumped on a chair and stared at the darkness outside, waiting patiently for his human.

__

For Claire. 


	4. Lament

****

A/N: This is the chapter I wrote the story for. However, like most stories, this has taken a life of its own. So this is not the end.

Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed. And since I still have PC problems, I'll reply to your comments and questions at the start of the coming chapter.

****

CHAPTER 3: Lament.

__

Where is she?

The white cat stood on his hind legs, trying to get a better view of the driveway from behind the window. And there was still no sign of her. Lugh saw a squirrel running through the lawn and his tail twitched by reflex, but he felt no desire for hunting that day. It had been three days since Claire had left for work never to return, and by now he was certain that something was terribly wrong. 

__

Why has she left? Was it because of me?

The cat jumped of the dresser and walked to the kitchen where the other human of the house had left a plate of food for him. Aloof, he licked some water, sniffed the food and returned to his seat by the window, feeling the sting of guilt in his little heart.

__

Had I known that she prized her coffee mug that much, I'd never gone anywhere near that accursed thing, he thought. The night before her disappearance Claire had been furious when she discovered the broken remains of her favorite mug. She had yelled at him and he had handled it the usual feline way; by ignoring her. And now he feared that he had made a terrible mistake.

__

I swear I'll never break anything again, he pleaded. _Please, come back._

I will be a good boy, I promise.

Just come back.

~*~

But Claire never returned. And Lugh spend his days by the window, waiting. From time to time his natural instincts would prevail and he would go out to chase birds and squirrels, but his interest faded fast. He nibbled some food, drunk some water and sat by the window waiting for the one who would never come home again.

Sparkle, the tabby living across the street, told him that he was a fool grieving over a human. She told him that he should move on and find another human to have as a servant. And when she saw that Lugh still held on to Claire's memory, she twitched her tale and left, snorting. _This is a dog's way_, she spat in disgust.

Lugh knew this, but he couldn't help himself. Claire had found him in a trashcan when he was less than a month old. If it hadn't been for her kind heart, he would have died. She took him in and nursed him back to health, feeding him with a bottle patiently and cleaning him when he unwillingly soiled himself. His early memories were of her soothing voice whispering in his ears and the warmth of her chest as she fed him. His very first memory was the sound of her heart, the one he loved to hear late at nights, when she was fast asleep.

He was confused by the fact that Tina could not remember her friend. Although her clothes and the rest of her belongings had vanished, her scent still lingered on. He could smell her on the empty bed at nights. He could feel her on the towels in the bathroom, still holding a distant scent of her hair. He could feel her presence in a forgotten slipper, one she had forgot to throw away when it broke. This had now become his favorite toy, much to Tina's amusement that had absolutely no clue of what was going on.

For Lugh, Claire's presence was still everywhere; in every room, in every doorway, in every wall.

How could the humans forget?

He could not.

~*~

Weeks became months and months became years. Tina's friends commented on her well-behaved pet, of the cat that never broke anything around the house or used the furniture as a scratching post. Quiet, Lugh stayed by the door, his yellow eyes perking up every time someone's keys turned in the lock. And every night he would sleep with his paws clutching the shredded slipper, trying to listen to a heartbeat that was no longer there.

He thought of going after her, or after that strange man that had come for her belongings that night. But he had no knowledge of the outside world. There were cars and dogs and humans with hard boots and harder hearts. He had no lead to follow and no skills to survive outside. And what if she came back and never found him? So Lugh decided to stay by the door and wait.

Then came the time when his feet could no longer support him, his health having submitted to his ailing heart. Tina would carry him to his favorite seat, where he would stare out of the window with his failing eyes. Until the day he saw Tina for the last time.

Even walls hold the memories of one's loved ones. Those memories, fragments of one's soul still linger on long after the body has withered away. They linger, bound by nothing more than love.

Even the love of a cat.

Lugh felt the darkness falling. _Not yet_, he pleaded, _not yet. She might return tomorrow. Just one more day_. He clutched with his paws the back of the chair, trying to hold on to life, but he felt his soul drifting away. And his heart bled thinking that he would never see Claire again.

Through the shadows that were now veiling his eyes, he saw iridescent butterflies dancing. Sparkles broke way from the walls, from the chair, even from the tattered slipper he was lying on and hovered above him, dancing faster and faster. A swarm of fireflies joined in, bursting in colors Lugh had no names for. And they danced faster until they collided, creating one single shape.

He would never know that he witnessed the birth of a ghost. All he knew was that Claire had finally returned. And she smiled.

__

I missed you, he said, knowing that she could not understand him.

To his surprise, she did. _I've missed you too, boy_, she said.

__

Did you leave because of me?

She smiled sadly. _I never wanted to leave you, my little one_, she said and reached out to stroke his head. 

Lugh could not feel her touch, but he purred anyway. And after a few moments of content silence, he purred out his last breath.

~*~

When Tina came home, she found the cat dead on his favorite seat, with the slipper still in his paws. In tears, she carried the lifeless body away to bury it. She never saw the shadow that lurked against the wall. And she never heard the screams of the tortured soul.

Claire's ghost was howling in wrath. Her life had been taken away. The memory of her existence had been erased. And her cat, the only creature that had really loved her had withered away in guilt, loneliness and pain.

Someone would pay for this. Oh, he would pay dearly.

It might take her years to find him, but she would. Time was nothing to her.

She had nothing more to lose.

She was already dead.


End file.
